


Thick Walls Down

by h4hahn



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Same-Sex Marriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-04-18
Updated: 2009-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h4hahn/pseuds/h4hahn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who wouldn't want a wife...even Erica Hahn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thick Walls Down

I raise my head at the sound of the security alarm that beeps when the front door is opened. 'Damn it', I didn't hear the garage door when she got home. My gaze slides across the room to the open bottle of Côtes du Rhône on the island top. I wipe my hands on the towel at my waist and stride towards the bottle, tilting it to pour a generous portion into the glass.

 

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and turn to see her enter the kitchen. Her eyes are closed and I see her chest rise as she draws in a deep breath. Those blue eyes flash open and land on me, causing a warm smile to spread across my face. "Something smells amazing."

After setting the bottle back down onto the granite countertop, I move towards her; the glass of wine in hand. She glances over my shoulder at the bottle and a hopeful expression plays at her eyebrows. "Roasted duck with aromatics." I lightly peck her lips, before extending the glass to her.

"Ah, my favorite…and to what do I owe this." She raises the glass to her lips taking a slow, shallow sip. Her brows rise at me over the rim.

I reach with my hand to slide down her hip, just for a second, before turning back to the stove. "Nothing, I know you have the next two days off, so I thought we could have take our time with a nice slow dinner." I lift the lid of the enameled pot and slowly stir the contents. I can sense her moving in behind me, at the stove.

Her lips press lightly against the skin of my neck. My head leans forward, slightly, extending the column of my throat. Her lips move up to the hairline, softly kissing and murmuring against my skin, "Did I mention I love your new hair cut?"

"Hmm." I raise my head and turn my neck to the left, feeling her arm wrap around my waist. "I just put the duck in a few minutes ago; you have time for a shower if you like."

She kisses my cheek, before stepping back. "Yeah, that sounds nice. I'll be back in a few minutes."

I cast a glance over my shoulder and watch her walk out of the kitchen. "Take your time."

I replace the pot lid and turn towards the pantry. So often I wish there were more physically manifested ways I could show Erica what she means to me. I make her dinner, I try to greet her at the door, try to surround her with the little creature comforts that will make her day easier and brighter; freshly folded laundry always in her drawers, her favorite foods in the kitchen, seasonal flowers greeting her as she drives up to the house. She seems to notice and appreciate every gesture. She compliments my hair, thanks me for the note reminding her to speak with the Chief about something she mentioned the night before; she comments on the raised flower beds, the new curtains I make for our bedroom, she savors the meals I prepare just for her.

But, sometimes I wonder if it's enough; if she really understands everything I feel for her, how loved she truly is. We've been married two years and every morning I still wake up excited about what the day with her will bring. She lets me know that she values and respects the nonprofit work I do, even if it doesn't result in a respectable forty hour work week or sizable salary. Because of that and so much more, I strive to do the little things I can for her. If I can keep Erica's routine running smoothly and ease her day the slightest bit, then it's completely worth it.

I use the little, small gestures I can to hopefully show her what she means to me. Like this evening. I'm preparing her favorite meal just because it's her favorite, and she's had a stressful week. I laid out a comfortable dress for her in the bathroom, for when she finishes her shower. It's loose and relaxed, but provides just a hint of grace to our quiet evening at home. She'll look great in it, barefoot and fresh from the shower.

Which is how I see her, when she reenters the kitchen a half hour or so later. I slowly scan my eyes over her form. Her hair is falling in soft, shiny curls around her face. The brown dress brushing just above her knees. her slender legs tapering down to bare feet. "What can I help with?" My gaze moves back up her body, noticing her hands casually perched on her hips.

"Well, you can set the table?"

"Right." I watch her move across the kitchen to the cabinet. She stretches up, on her toes, to reach the top shelf. Her calves tighten as stretches up and one foot briefly leaves the floor. I turn back to the stove and bend to open the oven and remove the heavy pan. I can hear the clink of the plates and silverware behind me, as she gathers everything.

I lift the duck from the oven, "There's another bottle of wine by the sink, if you want to open it. I've already had two glasses, from the first one, while you were in the shower." I look over my shoulder and see her raise her brows at me mischievously.

"Inebriated cooking…I don't know how I feel about that."

"Remember that roast last Tuesday?" I nod my head.

The clucks her tongue at me, as she opens the second bottle. I hear her grunt slightly, right before the satisfying pop. "That was pretty good. Even if I did have three glasses myself." She's moving behind me pulling two glasses from the cabinet and walking the bottle to our kitchen table. I tent the duck to rest, pull our salads from the refrigerator, and join her at the table.

"So, I spoke with Julie today." We clink our glasses together in cheers to a good, relaxing meal. "She and Stephen are coming over for dinner next Friday."

Her blue eyes widen over the rim of her glass. I watch the movement of her throat as she swallows the wine. "You called the Chief's wife and asked them for dinner."

I stab the lettuce on my plate and look up her. "Erica you and Stephen weren't going to invite each other over, were you? So yeah…I called Julie." I take a bite and chew it quietly as she turns her attention to her plate. "Don't you remember…at the benefit for the pediatric wing, we all talked about having dinner one night?"

She nods her head and spears a tomato with her fork.

"Erica, we'll have a good time. Trust me. His wife is really nice. And it couldn't help to get closer to Stephen, right?"

Erica shakes her head, softly. "I'm just surprised you arranged this. I mean he and I are the ones who know one other; the ones who work together."

I sit my fork down the rim of my plate and reach to place my left hand on her arm. "That's what a wife does. Look, I called Julie…not Stephen." She raises her eyebrow at me. "Okay…okay. I'm not the traditional wife, I know. But, I just thought about it this afternoon and decided to give her call. You're not upset, are you? I mean it's just dinner…"

She crosses her arm and lays her left hand on top of my own. "No, it's fine. I just…Thank you, for thinking of it."

I wink at her and pull back to attend to my salad plate…"That's what I do."

 

After dinner Erica insisted on helping me clean up the kitchen and then retired to her study for a few minutes to login to the hospital and check the updates on her patients.

I made my way upstairs, secure that I could take my time in getting ready for bed. She always spends much longer on the hospital site than she originally intends.

Nearly an hour later she appears in our bedroom doorway, apologizing for taking so long. I watch, amused, as she ducks into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She's pulling her dress over head as she reenters our room.

I'm lying flat on my back, the sheet pulled tight across my hips. As the dress clears her head, her gaze falls on me; moving from my hips to my eyes. She visibly swallows and I see the flush spread across her chest as she observes the tent in the sheets.

I lean up onto one elbow and slowly lick my lips. "I thought maybe we could leave slow in the kitchen tonight."

She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as the sheet falls away from my chest. I crook my finger at her, beckoning her towards the bed. Urging her to overcome the trepidation that has frozen her in the doorway, and to come to me.

I push up and move to my knees on the bed, and hear her draw in a long breath. The velvet harness sways against my mound causing me to smile and hold my arms out to her.

"Where did you get that?" Her voice is throaty and low.

I scoot to the edge of the bed and drape my arms around her neck, letting the firm dildo, between my legs, rub insistently against her soft stomach.

We both look down between our bodies, seeing the pink intrusion rest against her pale skin. "I very discreetly ordered it, just for us." I look back up searching her blue eyes, "You don't mind do you?"

She smirks and leans forward to press her lips lightly against my own. "I just didn't realize my wife was such a perv."

I press back passionately against her lips. "You love it, I know it."

She emits a deep, quick moan against my lips. My tongue slides between her lips, she opens her mouth and tilts her head, inviting me to devour her. I circle my hands around her waist and slide smoothly up her back, my fingers releasing the clasp of her bra. I tug it down her shoulders, so she can allow it to glide to the floor.

Pulling back, I once again gaze down between us, admiring the view of our naked breasts; her pink pebbled nipples mere inches from my own. The contrast of her white lace panties, against the black velvet of my harness. Her hands slide over my lower back, and over the corset back of the harness. She emits a low noise when her hands encounter my bare ass and she pulls me against her; her soft pink tongue delving into my mouth, her fingers squeezing my ass, her nipples brushing against my own. Every sense in my body is taut like a pulled string.

My hands reach up to thread through her blonde curls, pulling her mouth against me. Her kiss, her lips against my own, causes my toes to curl, causes the animalistic part of my brain to kick in, causes the world to simply fall away from us.

Her hands slide up over my hips and she pushes me gently away. Pale hands glide up my abdomen, over the top of my aroused breasts, and to my shoulders. She gently pushes me back upon the bed. I lie back and watch her slide her panties down her long legs. Twisting and stretching, I grab the small bottle on the nightstand and place the lubricant in my hand.

With her hands on her stomach, Erica subconsciously licks her lips and watches my slender hand stroke the pink dildo. Her blue irises darken and her eyes narrow, as I stroke up and down putting on a small display just for her. I offer her a coy smile and she kneels onto the bed, crawling towards me.

Straddling my hips, the dildo extends up across her stomach; protruding from between my legs, from between her own…the image is burned into my brain. Her blonde curls, brushing against the pink shaft.

She leans down to kiss me, her tongue tracing the outline of my lips. A moan escapes my lips as I feel it roll between us. She swallows my moan and presses against my warm mouth. She's so sweet and soft against me, despite the hardness invading between us.

I feel her lift up on to her hands, by my shoulders. My eyes are closed, enjoying the sensation of her breasts swaying against me, her hard nipples brushing against my own. Her right hand slips down our stomachs, between us.

I feel her hips rising up, away from me. And then suddenly her hips are pushed flush against me, the protrusion abruptly gone. I snap my eyes open and she's gazing down intently at me. Her blonde curls falling around her face as she rocks slightly, rhythmically. I moan quietly at the shifting against my clit.

I grab her hips, arching up against her body. She sits up, pushing down against me. I watch her blonde curls pressed flush against the black velvet. She rises on her knees, and I watch with rapt attention as the pink phallus is revealed beneath her. Her lips clinging to the bright shaft. Erica raises and lowers, her hands atop her thighs; her eyes closed and head thrown back.

The undulation of her hips leaves me breathless; the movement of her body as she drives up and down, the swaying of her breasts above me drives me out of my mind. I grip her hips firmly and encourage her to press against me, pushing her sex down, pushing the dildo against my clit on each stroke.

She moans and curses above me, sliding her hands up and down her thighs. I move my right hand across her hip, through her soft damp curls, and gently circle her clit. Her blue eyes pop open and fall down to my gaze. Her pupils dilate and deepen as I caress her with my thumb; I encourage her to ride me. Softly telling her to fuck herself, to let me fuck her.

Her hands move to my stomach as she pushes, rising nearly to the top of the phallus before slamming her hips back against me. She moves against me, pounding against me, as I teasingly play with her clit and watch her breasts bounce. Her nipples are pebbled to tumescent peaks, rising and falling with the movements of her body.

I press my thumb against her clit, "Come on, baby." She slams her hips against me and throws her head back, grinding her pelvis down against my own.

Her back arches like a bow and I bite my lip as she pushes hard against my clit. My hips jerk up into her, as we both tumble over the ledge, pressing sex to sex.

"Erica…." it's the only low sound that can escape my throat as my clit throbs between my legs and my neck presses into the pillow.

She collapses atop me, her blonde curls falling in a curtain across my face, she shudders in my arms. I brush her hair to the side and drop kisses on her shoulder as she whispers her love into my ear.


End file.
